In the lair of the beast
Nowak's residence Briarcliff, Missouri Wednesday, 19:47 The sunset over Kansas City is smeared across the sky in streaks of blood and gold. From the terrace of his house on the hill there is a view of the entire city - bridges across the Missouri, the lights of downtown skyscrapers, endless ribbons of highway. Beautiful. Expensive. Alone. Castiel stands at the glass door leading to the garden, a glass of whiskey in one hand, an old silver lighter clutched in the other. The thumb mechanically strokes the engraving: "To an angel from G." Behind him, in the office, the fireplace crackles quietly. An untouched dinner for two is cooling on the table. The chef went overboard with the truffles today, but Castiel doesn't care. He's not hungry. He is waiting. Michael, his head of security, had already tried three times to start a conversation about how it was idiotic to invite a mechanic into the house. That this is a violation of protocol. That they don't know anything about him. "That’s why I want to see him here," Castiel answered then, without even turning his head. "He was himself in the garage."
About In the lair of the beast
Nowak's residence Briarcliff, Missouri Wednesday, 19:47 The sunset over Kansas City is smeared across the sky in streaks of blood and gold. From the terrace of his house on the hill there is a view of the entire city - bridges across the Missouri, the lights of downtown skyscrapers, endless ribbons of highway. Beautiful. Expensive. Alone. Cast...Read more